


She's a Screamer

by Chrmdpoet



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Established Relationship, F/F, Fake Blood, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Humor, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrmdpoet/pseuds/Chrmdpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa likes to act tough, but Clarke sees right through her. (Haunted House AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's a Screamer

**Author's Note:**

> Just a funny little Haunted House AU one-shot for Halloween. Enjoy! XO-Chrmdpoet

“You are about an inch away from becoming a human koala, Clarke.”

“It’s cold.”

“I told you to bring your jacket.”

“You always tell me to bring a jacket.”

“Because you are always cold.” Lexa sighs, leaning to the side to glance toward the front of the long line. They are finally nearing the entrance to the haunted house, and she is grateful, because Clarke is trembling in the cold and the guy standing behind them smells like both a flooded brewery and a burning pot field smashed into one. “I’ve been living with you for three years. I know you better than  _you_  know you.”

“I know me pretty well,” Clarke says, pressing her cold nose to Lexa’s cheek and bouncing on her heels to try to keep warm.

“And _I_ know you even better.”

“Whatever,” Clarke grumbles. “Is the line moving?”

“At a snail’s pace, but yes,” Lexa says, smiling and turning to press a cold kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “Are you ready to scream your head off?”

“Ha.” Clarke snorts and pokes Lexa’s side. “I never scream.”

“You always scream.”

“When?”

“Every year.”

“ _Every_ year?  _Really_?” Clarke drawls, and Lexa’s grin widens.

“Every year,” she confirms. “ _Really_.”

“You scream too.”

“Only because you do,” Lexa defends. “Your scream is enough to scare the hair off a cat. It’s a chain reaction, instinctual. I’m never  _actually_ afraid.”

“Sure you’re not.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, Lexa.”

“Seriously, I’m not. Everything is fake. The makeup is well done here and the sets and props are nearly film quality, but everything is  _still_  fake, Clarke. I don’t find it scary. Entertaining, sure, but scary, hardly.”

“Okay, Lexa.”

“Stop saying ‘Okay, Lexa’. I’m serious. I’m not scared.”

“Okay, Lexa.”

Lexa shrugs her shoulder to bounce Clarke’s head away from where it is leaning against her, and when Clarke looks at her, amused, Lexa glares. “I hope a fake werewolf eats you.”

“I thought only _you_ were allowed to eat me?” Clarke whispers, nipping at Lexa’s jaw. She laughs, low and raspy, when Lexa’s cheeks redden.

“I hope you slip in a pool of fake blood and bruise your ass then,” Lexa says, and Clarke laughs out loud.

“You’ll just rub it until feels better, so who  _really_ wins?”

Clearing her throat, Lexa leans to the side. “Oh look, two more people and then we finally get to go in.”

Clarke tears open the night air with a scream pitched high enough to shatter ear drums when an actor, dressed as some strange sort of part-man, part-pig monster, sneaks up behind her and snorts in her ear. She jumps, literally  _off_ the ground, and Lexa barely manages to stay on her own feet and catch Clarke at the same time.

As others in the line laugh at Clarke’s terrified reaction, Lexa slowly puts her girlfriend back on the ground and rubs at her ear. It was the one closest to Clarke’s mouth, thus it was also the one made victim to her terror.

“Sorry,” Clarke mutters, chuckling. “He just caught me off guard.”

“I can’t hear you,” Lexa teases, tugging on her ear. “I’ve gone temporarily deaf.”

They shuffle forward as the line moves again, and now they are only one set away from entering the attraction. Clarke smiles brightly at Lexa and squeezes her arm. “I’m excited,” she says, and Lexa can’t help but lean in to plant a firm kiss to her girlfriend’s lips.

“It will be fun.”

“It will,” Clarke agrees, nodding, “and probably terrifying.”

When the guy at the door pulls back the curtain and motions for them to enter, Clarke’s heart begins to race. They are only five steps into the haunted house and nothing, yet, has happened, but Clarke is already clinging to Lexa’s arm like she is afraid the other girl will disappear if she doesn’t. It makes it difficult for them to walk without stumbling over each other’s feet, but Clarke thinks that that only adds to the atmosphere of the place, and Lexa thinks that Clarke is ridiculous and fucking _cute_.

Everything is dark and smoky, too quiet in this moment, and Clarke is already on edge. She knows she is only a heartbeat away from jumping out of her skin, but Lexa will keep her grounded. She always does.

The first set they enter isn’t too elaborate, and they skirt around a fountain of water made to look like a small lake with an animatronic alligator popping up in a spray. It sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine, but it isn’t quite enough to make her scream. She does roll her eyes, though, at Lexa’s snort and quiet remark of, “That isn’t very realistic. Who is that supposed to scare?”

It’s a habit of hers, analyzing and dissing everything they encounter in the various haunted houses they enter, and while Lexa would argue that it is because she _isn’t_ afraid, Clarke knows that it is actually because she  _is_. This is Lexa’s defense mechanism, her way of keeping her head about herself so as not to fall victim to a rush of adrenaline and devolve into a screeching fool like Clarke. When she starts up with her snarky remarks about the scenery or the actors, Clarke knows it is evidence that Lexa is high-key on alert and already feeling the prickling haunt of fear.

It makes Clarke giddy but she knows better than to call her girlfriend on it. If Lexa wants her to think that she is big and bad and not afraid of anything, then Clarke won’t take that from her. She finds it almost unbearably adorable anyway, so she just smiles to herself and squeezes Lexa’s arm harder.

The next set is one that makes Clarke highly uncomfortable–a butcher shop. Fake blood and body parts abound as they push through doorways covered in blood-streaked plastic flaps, and Clarke braces herself for the jump-scare. It always manages to catch her off guard anyway, but she tries.

When the butcher makes his appearance seconds later, Clarke screams like she is actually being butchered and pushes Lexa into a run so that they practically sprint into the next set and away from the faux crazed killer. Her breath is rapid and shallow, and her heart pounds against her chest as Lexa chuckles at her, but Clarke can hear Lexa’s matching shallow breaths, and she doesn’t miss the way Lexa’s grip on her has tightened.

“It would have been better if he jumped out sooner,” Lexa says, clicking her tongue. “The costume was good and the plastic flaps on the doors definitely gave it a realistic effect, but the butcher appeared too late to gain the desired effect.”

“Mhm,” Clarke hums. “That must have been why I just screamed my head off and hauled ass out of–OH JESUS FUCK!”

Clarke screeches the words as an actor pops up from behind a hidden slot in the wall and growls at her. She thinks she hears the tiniest squeak from Lexa, but she isn’t sure. The way her girlfriend is clearing her throat and picking up the pace, though, practically confirms it.

“I don’t know why they growl,” Lexa complains. “Obviously, they can’t simply say something like ‘Boo’ because that would be too childish, but do people actually growl on a regular basis? Do crazed killers _growl_ , Clarke? I don’t think so. Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to yell or even say simply something particular, a threat of some kind?”

“Just enjoy it, Lexa.”

“I am, Clarke.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me,” Lexa says. “Your reactions are very amusing.”

“So nothing has scared you at all?” Clarke challenges, pinching her girlfriend’s side as they round a hallway decorated with slime-covered walls and filtered with fog.

“Of course not.”

“Okay, Lexa.”

“Okay, Clarke.”

When they turn a sharp corner and enter a pitch-black room, both Lexa and Clarke freeze in place. 

“I can’t see a thing!” Clarke hisses, tightening her hold on Lexa and practically climbing into her arms.

“Me neither.”

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”

A quiet, raspy giggle sounds from somewhere to their right, drawing a sharp gasp from Lexa and a whimper from Clarke.

“Go Lexa,” Clarke whispers. “Just go!”

Lexa kicks into gear, pulling Clarke with her and bumping into walls in the black room. “It’s a dead end,” she says when she slams into the fourth wall.

Clarke’s stomach knots. “Oh fuck.”

“Oh fuck is right,” a deep voice says from right behind them, hot breath ghosting over both their necks, and Lexa screams so hard and jumps so high that Clarke literally cannot hold onto her. She didn’t even know Lexa’s voice could go that high.

Lexa takes off before Clarke can latch onto her again, and Clarke can hear her bumping into walls and cussing all the way out of the set. Clarke is so stunned that she can’t even bring herself to follow, and her fear suddenly turns into amusement when the same deep voice from before says, “Well, that was fucking funny as shit.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke laughs. “That was hilarious.” She wipes at tears forming in her eyes as she clutches her stomach and laughs with the actor she can’t see but can hear. When her laughter dies down, she asks, “Can you help me out of here?”

“Sure, no problem,” he says, and then a flashlight clicks on and sends a beam of light toward the set exit.

Clarke thanks him, and he tells her to enjoy her night before she scurries off after Lexa.

She makes it halfway through the next set, a jungle scene with robotic snakes and spiders, when a hand latches onto her and jerks her into a familiar body.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, still breathing heavily. “I–”

“I thought you only screamed when _I_ screamed?” Clarke challenges over the loud hiss of the robotic snake slinking out behind Lexa. “You were scared.”

“I was …” Lexa clears her throat. “I was caught off guard. That’s all.”

“Oh, baby,” Clarke pouts, pulling her in for a kiss. She chuckles against Lexa’s frowning lips. “You were scared. It’s okay.”

Lexa huffs. “I was _caught off guard_ ,” she defends again.

“Okay, Lexa,” Clarke says, patting her girlfriend’s back and holding back another wave of laughter.

Lexa lets out another frustrated huff before winding her arm through Clarke’s and pulling her toward the next set. “These snakes aren’t even remotely realistic. No snake gets this big.”

The grin that paints itself across Clarke’s face is bright enough to be visible, even in the dark. 


End file.
